


Interesting

by eadunne2



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: BDSM, Daddy Kink, Fluff, Light BDSM, M/M, Protectiveness, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 19:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eadunne2/pseuds/eadunne2
Summary: A short sentimental daddy kink ficI just threw this up, sorry for any typos.





	Interesting

Donna catches it the first time.

Of course she does.

“ _I am the champion, my friend_ ,” Mike belts, tossing the file onto Harvey’s keyboard. 

Harvey shoves it to one side. “Congrats, Queen. And knock next time - were you raised by wolves?”

Mike claps his hands beneath his chin, swooning, “Alas, I am a but a poor orphan, with no one to show me the way.” He drops his hands to add, “And your manners aren’t shit either. Ever heard of saying ‘thank you?’”

Though he’s still typing, the beginnings of a smile creep onto Harvey’s lips. “Fine. Thanks for the signatures.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I thought I said, ‘I am the champion.’ Meaning I didn’t just get the updated documents. I got the fucking backdated originals.”

Harvey sits back and folds his hands across his chest. “All three?”

“Plus access to their server. Booyah, baby.”

you,” he fixes Mike with a pointed stare as the kid follows him from the office. “Go home and get some sleep. You’re delirious.”

“Later. Jessica wants me to finish drafting the contract for Atax Motors.”

“She gave that to you?”

“She liked the work I did last week, I asked if there was anything else she needed help with, she gave me this. What?”

Impressed, Harvey murmurs, “Good boy,” and walks off down the hall. 

Mike’s knees buckle, though he catches himself on Donna’s desk.

Incredulously, she smirks, “Did you just swoon? Someone’s a Daddy’s boy.” 

He’s not brave enough to tell her to shut up, so he settles for walking away, hoping his arousal isn’t too obvious. 

-

The second time, Harvey definitely notices. 

“A Hard Road.”

Mike smirks. “John Mayall.”

“Ice Pickin’.”

“Albert Collins. Come on, Ray, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”

“Hoodoo Man.”

“Buddy Guy.” Mike pauses and when Ray starts to grin adds, “And Junior Wells’ Chicago Blues Band - did you really think I wouldn’t get that one?”

“Blues from the Gutter.”

“Champion Jack Dupree.”

“You’ve only got one more, Ray,” Harvey murmurs from his seat. “Better make it count.” He'd excused himself from the bet under the guise of answering emails, and his phone’s certainly out, but Mike notices his thumbs are hovering, motionless. 

Ray grins into the rearview mirror. “Original Stack O’Lee.”

Without guile, Harvey looks up at Mike in the silence, trying to clock whether he’s got the answer or not. 

“Long “Cleve” Reed and Harvey Hull, Down Home Boys.” Ray starts to sigh, but Mike continues, “Recorded in 1927 by Delta, only one copy left, valued between 30 and 60 thousand dollars in current condition. How d’ya like them apples?”

Without taking his eyes off the road, Ray hands back the money. “Not bad for a fake lawyer. 

Mike throws his head back to laugh. Harvey watches him tuck the money into his wallet before murmuring, “Good boy,” and Mike’s laugh turns into a choked off cough. 

Ray’s turned up the music, so for a moment Mike can get away with staring at his knees and praying that Harvey missed it. 

“Interesting,” the older man murmurs from the opposite seat, face illuminated by the glow of whatever email he's finally actually answering. 

“What?” Mike asks, but Harvey just echoes.

“What?” Is he smiling or is it a trick of the light?

“You said, ‘interesting’.”

“Did I?”

“Harvey.”

“Mike.”

Mike cracks the window in the hopes that the breeze will cool the warmth in his face and let's it go. For now at least. 

-

The dude may throw a damn party, but there’s something about Adam Garner that rubs Mike the wrong way. It can’t possibly be his brusqueness - Mike works for the king of tactless delivery. Perhaps it’s the leer. Or the way he’s always touching. 

Regardless, Mike’s never said anything. How could he? The guy owns half of New York, and Harvey’s been representing him forever, so Mike grits his teeth into a smile and has his suits dry cleaned the next day in an attempt to make sure the smell of cloying cologne never even makes it into his apartment. 

Mike had been glad for the invite, but it’s hard to enjoy the event at this point. His nerves are frayed, probably from the lack of sleep, though it hasn’t helped that Harvey’s been quiet lately. The whole world banks on Harvey’s consistency. Be an ass. Fail at hiding that foundational kindness. Win big. Repeat. There’s less of the being an ass part, but also less of the gentleness that Harvey reserves for him, the affection which hints at a much more complex and interesting man than meets the eye. 

“Ross! Don’t you look dapper?” 

Oh, God. Here it goes. “Mr. Garner. Good to see you.”

“I’m so glad you could make it. Jessica’s not working you too hard, is she?”

The old man’s hand is on his shoulder and shows no sign of moving, so Mike smiles awkwardly and heads towards the bar. “I work for Harvey, so I honestly don’t run into Jessica all that often.” It’s not true but somehow he feels like invoking Harvey’s name will protect him. 

“I hear he can be a real ball buster.” 

He is - obviously, he is - but as Mike gestures for another drink he can’t help but snarl, “He’s been good to me.”

Garner scoffs. “That can’t possibly be true. The only person he’s ever been good to is himself.”

“Please stop touching me. He’s saved your companies a dozen times over.”

“By manhandling me into settlements.”

In an attempt to dislodge the man’s hand from where it’s slid down to his lower back, Mike turns all the way around and faces him. “Look, if you want someone else, go ahead and look. But you better believe no one else will get you the results he does. You want a pushover? I hear Travis Tanner’s taking on clients.” 

“That’s enough.” Harvey’s voice is ice, and Mike freezes with it. “Go wait in the car.”

“I was just -” 

“Come now, Harvey. I’d like the boy to stay.”

“Harvey, I was just -”

“Excuse us a moment.” At the end of a sharp tug, Mike’s standing on the other side of his boss, Harvey puts a hand on his shoulder and grits, “Go. Wait. In the car.”

Mike bristles and snaps quietly, “Or what?” Thank all that is holy that he’s watching Harvey’s face. The older man’s pupils swallow his irises, and he tucks his teeth between his bottom lip. 

“Or I’ll put you over my knee, and you won’t be able to sit in that wreck of a cubicle for a week.”

“Oh...my...god.”

Harvey smiles. “You want to be a good boy for me, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” he whispers. 

“Go.”

Mike shudders, and in response, Harvey runs a gentle thumb along the length of Mike’s jaw. 

He doesn’t remember crossing the atrium, or getting his coat. He doesn’t remember finding Ray in the sea of black cars. He doesn’t remember getting in. 

‘Good boy’, is ringing in his ears. 

“My place, Ray.”

Mike looks up to see Harvey sitting across from him in the back of the limo and the world comes back to him. 

“I’m sorry about the Tanner thing.”

Harvey regards coolly. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not. I wasn’t trying to fuck you over, he was just -”

“Mike. I know.” Harvey adjusts his cuffs, which is when Mike notices his knuckles, pink and a little raw. “How often does Garner do that?”

“What?”

“Touch you.”

Mike laughs dryly. “When doesn’t he?”

“That’s not an answer.”

Irritated at being forced into admitting it, Mike says, “Every damn time. Did you hit him?”

Harvey looks quickly out the window then back across the cab. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“He’s a billionaire.”

“He’s an asshole. And he shouldn’t’ve touched you. Not ever.”

“So protective. What are you, my daddy?”

Harvey chews the inside of his cheek for a moment, then - “You want me to be?”

The answer is so obvious that Mike wants to laugh, but there’s a look on Harvey’s face that gives him pause. Hesitance. 

And that’s it, isn’t it? The secret that nobody knows but them. Harvey has so much heart. 

“Close the window, would you, Ray?” Mike murmurs, and then slides to his knees on the floor of the limo. 

It’s a short distance ‘til he’s kneeling at Harvey’s feet and he looks up when he gets there, aware of the soft streetlamp light sliding across his face, the glide of the expensive fabric at his knees, the tension in his chest. Harvey’s watching impassively, but Mike can’t bear it anymore, the knowledge that this just might be another way they might fit together inexplicably well, if only they weren’t both too fucking scared to make the first move. 

He reaches up Harvey’s thigh to grasp the hand resting there and takes it between both of his own. As he presses his mouth to those battered knuckles, a sigh escapes Harvey’s mouth, and his eyes flutter closed. Perfect.

Mike kisses the top of Harvey’s hand next, then his wrist, biting playfully at the tendons there and the corner of Harvey’s mouth turns up at the tease. “Little shit.” 

“Just trying to make my point.”

“Which is?” There it is again, that hint of nerves. Mike loves him.

“I want you. As my Daddy, as my boss, as my friend. So be careful here, because I dunno if I’ll survive you changing your mind.”

“Change my mind?” Harvey whispers, confused and Mike bows his head a little for his own turn at being self conscious. “Oh I see. You think I don’t know what I want?”

Mike shrugs.

“Mike.”

He breathes deep the scent of leather and cologne. 

“Look at me.”

What’s he going to do? Argue?

In the cool quiet, he obeys. Harvey’s gaze is searching, penetrating, a philosopher or maybe an archaeologist, unearthing and discerning truths everyone else has stopped looking for. And then he nods. 

“Take off your tie.”

Mike’s fingers fumble with the silk, but Harvey’s not tapping out. 

“Turn around.”

The fabric slips from his fingers as he complies, and then it falls in front of his face and steady hands tie it snugly across his eyes. 

There’s a desperate noise in the cab. 

“Shhh. Breathe.” 

The inhale burns. 

“Can you hear me?”

“Yeah.” Though he barely recognizes his own voice.

“Color?”

“Green.”

“Safeword?”

“Louis.” He can feel the grin on his own face.

“Absolutely not.”

“Red, then.”

“Alright. Listen carefully.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I want you to talk tonight. I want you to make noise, communicate, tell me what’s going on in your head. Completely. All of it.”

“Is that an order, Sir?”

“Yes.”

“Usually you tell me I talk too much.”

A hand clenches painfully into the hair at the top of his head and he gasps. 

“What did I just say?”

“Ah! Ok. All of it. I feel like I’m floating. I’m nervous.” 

“Nervous?” The hand relaxes and those fingers massage at his scalp. “Why?”

“Because you’re you. Because I care what you think. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

There’s a shaky exhale behind him and a shift, heat moving in. Harvey’s so close his breath is warm against Mike’s cheek. “I’m never disappointed in you.”

“That’s not true!” Mike blurts. “I fuck up all the time.”

The curt rap to the side of his face is unsurprising, but grounding all the same. “Yes. And I’m not disappointed in you. I’m disappointed in myself for not preparing you better, or in your life for not providing you the opportunities you deserve. I trust you, Mike. I believe you when you say you did your best, and your best is enough for me. Maybe not for law, or the world, but for me, you have always been enough.”

Mike bites his lip. Now does not seem like the time to cry. “Ok.”

“Good. How are your knees?”

“Alright.”

“We’ll be home in twelve minutes,” and he pulls Mike back to rest against his legs.

Harvey’s hand rests firmly, squeezing the back of Mike’s neck as they drive and it leaves no room for anything else.


End file.
